Doug Allyn - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 134, No. 5. Whole No. 819, November 2009

“I do so wish I could say it was a pleasant surprise to see your fading features. Mind you, I could say it if someone was paying my rent and buying my clothes. One can say so many unlikely things when you’re being paid. But being an actor , you know that perfectly well.”

“There’s a window over there, Nancy. Maybe it opens.”

“And charming with it. But I shall leave you with Brett. You boys have so much in common. You could swap notes. On technique, perhaps.” Nancy left the men together to study the sunset over the Hudson.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall,” Andrew said, “who’s the most viperous slut of all?”

“Stop,” Brett said. “Stop it. I don’t think that’s what she’s like. Not really. I know there’s a bit of a hard veneer, but—”

“Hello? Were you here just now or not?” Andrew shook his head. “Was I imagining her part in that conversation? Pure poison.”

“She just gets started and can’t help the way it comes out.”

Andrew stared at him.

“And she is a wonderful director.”

Andrew sucked his lips before saying, “She certainly manages to make you look good, I’ll say that for her.”

Brett was uncomfortable, so he fell back on the most reliable method of changing subjects, asking the person you’re with to talk about himself. “I haven’t seen you around for a while — not that I catch everything that’s going on out there. Have you been working?”

“Nothing to sink my fangs into.” The fangs remark was a reference to Andrew’s earliest and, to date, biggest success in a vampire series. But it was before Brett’s time and the younger man didn’t respond. Andrew said, “I’ve been working, but just bits and pieces. Small parts, a little understudying, some kids’ magic shows, and I do some dubbing now and then. Whatever I can find to keep the wolf from the door. And in between I do some writing.”

“In our business it is important to stay positive till our luck changes.”

“I’d say it’s important for us to make our own luck.”

Which provided Brett a good segue to say, “They... they tell me you’re with Victoria now.”

“In the sense that she finds half an hour for me now and again. Forty-five minutes on a good day — whatever seems to suit her schedule best. Sound familiar?”

Too familiar for Brett to remember calmly, because when he and Victoria were together he’d been sure she was the one. But he’d been less experienced then and less mature. He said, “I’m sure she’ll make more time for you when all this Frankie Almond stuff settles down.”

“Think so?”

“She must love your voice. And your eyes.”

Andrew gave Brett a puzzled look.

Moving rapidly on, Brett said, “So, has she said anything to you about whether Frankie Almond is going to be picked up?”

“Not a whisper. Nor a murmur. Not even a whit or a tittle.”

Worth a try, Brett thought. Then, impulsively, he leaned forward to make a confidential comment, man-to-man. “She didn’t just get us all here in order to leave us fretting all evening, did she? Maybe planning to show up in a few hours, after we’re all nervous wrecks? Because that strikes me as just the kind of thing that would appeal to her so-called sense of humor. As you’ll find out. If you haven’t already.”

“I... have learned quite a bit about what amuses Victoria.” Andrew was not smiling.

The men locked eyes. Sympathy passed between them. But only a jot, because at that moment the front door of the penthouse burst open. Victoria Nation swept in.

She was a sight to behold, grand in her manner, glamorous in gold garments, and looking half her chronological age, at least from a distance. How did she do it?

“Sorry! So sorry I’m late, boys and girls. But there was a most frightful last-minute holdup at the network about location budgets. Where would we all be without e-mail and the cell phone, I ask you? But you don’t want to hear about my little problems, I’m sure. You’re all dying to know about the future of Frankie Almond, Private Eye.”

As Brett, Lorelei, Nancy, and Andrew moved closer to hear what she had to say there was a sudden silence in the room. Only Grimm hung back.

Victoria smiled, looking from one to another. She basked in the rapt attention. Finally it was Lorelei, the writer, whose patience ran out. “So, is it going to series or not? Stop teasing us.”

Victoria laughed. “Outspoken as ever, Lorelei. Well, I saw the network president this afternoon...” She paused again, to recreate the suspense. “I met him, and... he is mine! The answer is affirmative. We are going to series.”

“Yes!” Brett shouted.

Andrew was more muted as he muttered, “Well, well.”

Lorelei smiled and nodded and made a fist.

Nancy applauded. Quietly she said, “Well done, Vicki.”

“So let the celebration dinner commence,” Victoria said. “Grimm?”

Grimm rang a chime. “Assembled writer, director, producer, actor, and friend of Frankie Almond, pray be seated for dinner.”

As people began to move, Victoria called, “Please note, no ‘ladies and gentlemen,’ but then this is television.” She laughed loudly. Her laugh, if not melodic, was direct and to the point. “Come along into the dining room. If the news had been bad, I’d have sent out for a Dominos, but since it’s good, we’ll all have a jolly theme meal to celebrate the fame, fortune, and fabulous future of Frankie Almond, Private Eye.”

As soon as Victoria’s guests were in the dining room they could smell the food being prepared by caterers in the connecting kitchen. Grimm was heard over all of them. “Find your place cards and take your seats.”

Lorelei was first. “Where...? Oh, I’ve found me.”

Andrew, however, grumbled. “Place cards when there are only five of us?”

Nancy had a theory and she happily whispered it to Brett. “It’s the only way Victoria can be sure to have the men on either side of her. Don’t be fooled if she starts playing footsie with you, sweetie. She’ll be doing the same with Andrew on the other side. Ah, here’s me.” And she took her place next to Lorelei. And true enough, the two women faced Victoria directly with the men’s seats either side of her.

But Andrew was still not impressed by the place cards. “Well, to hell with this. I’ll sit wherever I damn please.” With a rebellious expression he took the seat designated for Brett, between Victoria and Nancy. “When is the next time I’ll have the chance to sit between a top TV producer and a top TV director?”

But Brett was not pleased. This way he wouldn’t be next to Nancy. “Andrew, that’s my seat.”

“Oooo,” Andrew said, “is big bad Bwett gonna cwy? Because he ought to remember, Frankie Almond would never cwy big bad pwivate eye tears. Take a hike, Brett. For once I’m having what I want.”

On the small screen Brett might have dragged Andrew aside and knocked him out with one punch, but in real life, with no lines to read and no stunt coordinator, all he could do was say, “Oh well.” He sat in the seat that had been designated for Andrew, between Victoria and Lorelei.

Victoria herself seemed not to notice. She was excited. “Now that Frankie Almond has been signed and sealed for prime time, I wanted to mark the occasion with something special. So I declare this theme dinner open. First, please take a look at the wine goblets by your plates. My sister made them from the finest Yorkshire clay. And do you see the face? Recognize Brett — or rather, Frankie? Isn’t that sweet? But before we all raise our goblets, I call on Nancy to remind us how she came up with the original idea for Frankie Almond, Private Eye.”